“Listen to me,” I whispered urgently. Hannah still stared at the woods. I grabbed her shoulders and shook her. She swung her gaze my way. “Levi is here right now. If you make it over the fence, he’ll help you get away. Find Ripper. Tell him I’m here. He’ll know what to do.” Glancing at the path, I scanned for signs of the approaching guards. Nothing. I grabbed the wire cutters and gloves and thrust them into Hannah’s hands. “There.” I pointed at a spot on the fence that lay in the shadow of a tall tree branch.
“No! Come with me.” Hannah clutched at my arms, her eyes wide with panic.
I shook my head. “I’m going to distract the guards. Buy you time. Climb over the fence, and then you and Levi run as far and as fast as you can before Pastor Bill figures out that you’re gone.”
“But what about you?” Hannah asked.
“Find Ripper,” I repeated. “That’s the most important thing, and this is our best shot for one of us to get away.”
Hannah’s chin quivered. “I want you to come with me.”
“Go.” I whirled and sprinted up the path in the direction of the oncoming guards. As soon as I rounded a bend, I spied two guards in the distance and stopped running. Sucking in a breath, I hiked my long skirt up over my knees—exposing several inches of thigh—and began to jump back and forth in the grass on the side of the path.
“Snake!” I screamed. “Oh, my God, a rattlesnake.” If anybody would buy a cliched, hysterical-at-the-sight-of-a-snake, girly outburst, it would be these chauvinistic jokers. Couldn’t hurt to flash some leg at the men, too. I wanted all the guards focused on me and my histrionics. I danced back and forth, shrieking, while holding my skirt up near my hips. “Snake! Snake! Snake!”
The first guard, a heavyset man in his thirties, staggered onto the scene, out of breath from running. I threw myself into his arms. “A rattlesnake,” I squealed, then pulled away from the stranger. “Did it bite me? I think it bit me.” Standing with my legs apart, I frantically patted my thighs, looking for a puncture wound. “Do you see a bite mark?”
The man hunkered down and ran his hands over my bare legs. “No, no bite mark,” he reassured me as the second guard approached.
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
“She thinks a rattlesnake bit her,” the first guard explained.
“A rattlesnake?” the second guard scoffed. “Rattlesnakes don’t live at this elevation. If she saw a snake, it was probably a harmless garter snake.” He turned toward me. “You need to calm down, and for God’s sake, cover up your legs. It’s indecent to lift up your skirt like that.”
I nodded and glanced down at my legs, pretending to be shocked that I exposed myself. “Oh! I’m sorry. I was so scared that I didn’t think.” I let my skirt drop and pressed a hand to my gingham-covered chest. “I’m terrified of snakes, even if they don’t bite. Could you...could you check the grass, to make sure it went away? Please.”
Sighing heavily, the second guard kicked at the grass next to the path while the first rose to his feet and awkwardly patted me on the shoulder, murmuring reassurances that I was safe.
“No sign of a snake,” the second guard declared after a few minutes. “Are you sure you didn’t imagine it?”
“Of course, I didn’t imagine it,” I said indignantly. “It was big and brown and covered with stripes. It must have slithered away into the woods. Maybe to look for his friends. There might be more of them.” I turned to the more sympathetic first guard. “I’m still shook up. My knees are trembling. Would you men be willing to walk me to the dining hall?” I turned pleading eyes on the second guard, my lower lip quivering, giving him what Uncle Mel called my puppy-dog expression. He glared at me as if I were the nitwit I was pretending to be.
“Of course, we’ll walk with you to the dining hall,” the first man said.
I laid a hand on his arm and smiled bravely through the tears that flooded my eyes. “Thank you so much, sir. I’m grateful. Thank you, too,” I said, turning to the second man, needing to reel him in and keep him from his rounds.
Muttering to himself and shaking his head in apparent disgust, the grumpy guard took his place by my side. I slipped my arms through theirs, as if I needed the support to stand, poor fragile woman that I was.
Chumps.
Flanked by the two men, I began to walk slowly toward the communal dining hall. As soon as we entered the building, Pastor Bill strode over, a frown on his face. “Is something wrong?”
“I saw a snake,” I said, infusing a quiver into my voice. “Your men very kindly agreed to escort me to the dining hall. It’s silly of me. I probably overreacted, but I can’t help it. Snakes scare me to death.”
Pastor Bill smiled indulgently. “Women have been afraid of snakes since one led them into temptation in the Garden of Eden. It’s not your fault, Mackenzie. It’s hardwired into your DNA.”
Hardwired into my DNA. Sheesh. Miles had a pet snake when we were children, a beautiful red, black, and ivory striped Mexican Milk Snake. I used to drape it around my neck when I wandered the house, or allow it to twine around my forearm while we watched TV. Yeah. We just couldn’t help it; girls were naturally afraid of snakes.
“Isn’t Hannah with you?” he asked, looking over my shoulder.
“She was carrying a bag of steer manure. It split open and spilled on her skirt,” I lied. “She didn’t want the smell to offend anyone during the meal, so she went to her room to change clothes. She’ll be here soon.”
“Such a sweet-natured young woman, always so considerate of others,” Pastor Bill said approvingly.
The door to the dining hall swung open with a bang. Two men marched into the room, dragging a slim girl between them.
“Take your hands off me, you jackwads,” Hannah shrieked, squirming in their grips. Dirt smudged her shredded skirt, and a purple bruise blossomed on her left cheekbone. Had one of those assholes hit her? While Pastor Bill stood in stunned silence, I hurled myself at the girl, positioning myself between her and the cult leader.
“We caught her trying to escape over the fence,” one of the men said.
“My stupid skirt got tangled in the razor wire,” Hannah told me.
The mind fuck was officially over.
With a flick of his fingers, Pastor Bill signaled his men to release Hannah and to step back. No longer held up by her captors, Hannah swayed. I slipped an arm around her waist to support her as we faced the pastor.
“Sin and defiance have infested my house,” Pastor Bill said.
The crowded room fell silent, and all eyes were upon us. Hannah sagged in my arms, her limbs trembling. “It was my fault, not Hannah’s,” I said. “I talked her into running.”
“No.” Hannah shook her head and stood up straight. “As soon as I found out what you had in mind for me, I decided that I’d do anything to get away. Death before dishonor, that’s from the Bible, isn’t it, pastor?”
“No, Hannah, it’s not from the Bible,” I interrupted, answering for him. “Pastor Bill might be an expert on dishonorable behavior, but he knows squat about honor. That’s a military slogan. Ripper had it tattooed on his arm, from his time with the Rangers.”
Pastor Bill’s lips curved into a humorless smile, and his gaze swung my way. “Perhaps you led the girl astray,” he said. He looked at Hannah. “Or perhaps you’ve always been a wolf in sheep’s clothing, intending to wreak havoc in the very heart of my flock. In any case, under a firm hand and stern guidance, your soul might still be salvageable.”
“Or maybe we’re just two girls who got sucked into your bat-shit crazy cult,” Hannah said. “You ever consider that, huh? Did it ever occur to you that you shouldn’t kidnap women and hold them against their will, you horny old creep?”
Pastor Bill smiled again, a shark’s smile, dead eyes above a menacing flash of teeth. He snapped his fingers. His faithful acolytes came to heel, and a circle of men formed around us.
“I will fast and pray, seeking divine guidance on how best to deal with this pair of
recalcitrant sinners,” he announced in a loud voice. “As for these two, put them in cells. Let them sit alone in the dark and ponder the error of their ways.”
SIXTEEN
Kenzie
Let them sit alone in the dark and ponder the error of their ways.
The chilling words reverberated through my mind as I lurched through the doorway leading toward the basement of the camp’s executive office building, the same door that had blocked Hannah’s passage when she searched for Levi. With my free hand, I grasped the handrail and stumbled down the steps. The men dragging us parted ways at the bottom of the stairs. One man pushed Hannah along a short, dimly lit hallway leading to the right; the other shoved me down a corridor to the left, leading us off in separate directions.
Basement storage rooms had apparently been retrofitted as jail cells, complete with heavy doors with substantial locks. Small panes of security glass allowed guards to peek into each room. The guard flipped a switch, illuminating the interior of the cells. A rattle and a thump from inside a cell broke the silence as we approached the second door on the right. A man’s face pressed against the security glass. I caught a glimpse of his shaved head and beard.
Pastor Derek. The face from the photographs. He was supposed to be dead, a victim of the flu. Why was he locked up in the basement?
I almost tripped when the guard roughly pushed me into the next cubicle.
“Hold still,” he ordered, pulling a pair of metal handcuffs from his pocket. He snapped one cuff onto my left wrist, then tugged me toward the far end of the room, where a thin blanket was spread across the floor. Above it, a thick eyebolt affixed a length of chain to the wall. Seizing the free end of the chain, the guard fastened the other half of the handcuff to its last link. The chain was about ten feet in length, long enough to allow me to sit or lie down on the pathetic bed or to pace the small room.
“Not going anywhere, are you, bitch?” he said, jerking on the chain to make his point.
Without another word, he strode from the room. The door lock clicked. A few seconds later, the overhead bulb flickered off, and the room plunged into abject blackness. I sank down onto the cold cement floor. Leaning against the wall, I pulled my knees to my chest. Panic stirred in my belly, and my teeth began to chatter.
Cut it out. You’re not afraid of the dark anymore. You beat the phobia, remember?
I had. I’d faced my fear and marched out into the night, determined to find the medical supplies needed to save Miles and Kyle from the flu. No boogeymen had lurked in the dark. Nothing had reached out from the shadows to grab me. I’d finally defeated my childhood phobia. Killed it. Put it in the past. So, why was that old, familiar dread creeping through my veins?
Fear nibbled away at my hard-won bravado. If Pastor Bill showed him my goodbye letter, Ripper might go away, never suspecting that I was alive and being held prisoner. Hannah’s abortive escape was a complete bust. We’d never get another chance to scale the fence.
Crap. I’m alone in the dark, and I might never see Ripper again.
Gritting my teeth, I pressed my face against my knees, trying to hold back the flood.
Miles. Oh my God. Miles.
My cousin’s face materialized in front of my eyes, his face wreathed in that shy smile he wore during our last good night, when we ate the pizza he’d baked in the solar oven and played badminton.
The dam broke and unwelcome tears spilled down my cheeks and clogged my nostrils. The chain clanked when I lifted a hand to wipe at my face, reminding me that I was shackled to a wall like a prisoner in a medieval dungeon. I sniffed, then held my breath, willing the tears to stop.
Get a grip. Breaking down won’t help a damned thing.
Nope. It was too much. My sorrow and fear refused to be browbeaten into submission. I pulled Ripper’s dog tags and my necklace out of my blouse and pressed them against my lips. Sobbing, I rocked back and forth, finally giving vent to my misery. I don’t know how much time passed before I noticed the sound coming from the corner of the room, where my cell butted up against the one holding Pastor Derek.
Turning my face toward the sound, I stilled.
“Hey, you all right over there?” A disembodied voice floated out of the darkness.
My sobs had disturbed the imprisoned minister. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve, then scooted toward the corner. My fingers found the wide crack between the walls. Apparently, Pastor Bill’s men had slapped up sheet rock to divide a large room into small cells. They did a half-assed job, leaving almost an inch-wide gap where the old wall met the new, and they hadn’t taped the joints. No wonder Pastor Derek could hear me cry.
“Hello.” My voice quivered as I fought to regain my composure.
“What’s going on? Somebody hurt you?”
“I’m okay,” I said. “Nobody hurt me. I’m just having a little pity party over here.”
“Ahh. Gotcha.” He hesitated. “You want to talk about it?”
“No.” As soon as I said the word, I regretted my terse reply. The man was reaching out with kindness, and I didn’t want to rudely reject the overture. “Listen, it’s just that nowadays, if you’re alive, you’ve lost people. Everybody has lost people. To the flu, or from getting separated and not being able to find each other. It’s nothing special. I shouldn’t...I shouldn’t feel so sorry for myself.”
“We’re all the walking wounded,” he said. “You think that means you’re not entitled to grieve? Grieving is normal. When my wife and baby girl passed, I lay down on the bed and waited to die. After a couple of days I started to think about that verse from the book of Psalms. Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. So I made myself get up and get moving. I had to have faith that someday I’d find new meaning and purpose, maybe even joy. Or at the very least, some peace of mind.”
I don’t want meaning or purpose or peace of mind. I want Ripper and Kyle and Sahdev and Hector. I want Miles.
How selfish was that? Especially compared to Pastor Derek’s grief. “I’m sorry you lost your family.”
“What’s your name?” he asked gently.
“Kenzie.”
“Kenzie, would you like to pray together?”
A sincere offer of consolation and help, but I’d feel like a hypocrite if I took him up on it.
“I’m not exactly religious,” I confessed.
“No? Well, then how about you tell me about the people you lost? Sometimes it helps to share memories.”
I shook my head in a frantic refusal, a ridiculous gesture, since we were sitting in total darkness in different rooms. Swallowing hard, I cleared my throat. “I’m not ready. It’s all too fresh.”
“Your call, but if you’re ever ready to talk about it...” He gave a low chuckle. “Doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere anytime soon.”
“You’re Derek Heywood,” I said. “I saw your photos in the office that Pastor Bill took over.”
“That’s right. I was the pastor—actually one of the two pastors—at a church in Portland. The other pastor, Todd, was a close friend from seminary. Did you ever hear the quote from Martin Luther King that said that 11 a.m. Sunday morning is the most segregated hour in America? Todd and I decided to do our part to breach that divide, to bring people together, so we set out to create a reconciliation church with an interracial congregation.”
“Was that hard to do?”
“Well, yeah. There will always be issues when people come from different traditions. Do you stand up when the spirit moves, or do you sit quietly during the service? What kind of music do you play in church? What do you do with kids who act up during the sermon? What do you call the pastor? Grandma Taylor had a fit when some of my white parishioners called me Derek. She said it wasn’t respectful. We compromised and everybody called me Pastor Derek. And politics...” He blew out a breath. “That’s where things can get really ugly. The past few years have been hard. We’ve lost members, but overall my church was full of good people.”
“How
did you end up locked up in the basement?” I asked.
“This was our summer camp. After the flu burned through the city, I didn’t find a single survivor from my congregation. Todd died early, along with his family. It occurred to me that some of my parishioners might have fled Portland. You know, looking for an isolated, safe haven, away from the virus. Like the camp. So about two weeks ago, I drove out here to check things out. I found that Pastor Bill had installed himself and his people in our camp.”
“I bet he wasn’t happy when you showed up.”
Pastor Derek snorted. “He pretended to welcome me. Raised his hands and praised the lord that I’d been spared.” His voice took on a mock, warbling inflection. “As soon as I began to ask some hard questions, he called me to a meeting with his deacons. I sat down in my former office. Four men pulled out guns, then frogmarched me to the basement. I’ve been here ever since. They take us to the bathroom twice a day, in case you’re wondering. And Nicole brings food.”
“Nicole?” Good. “She’s started to see through Pastor Bill’s b.s.”
“Thank God.” A chain rattled from the next room when he shifted positions. “After her family died, Nicole was a lost soul, clinging desperately to Bill’s lies, to his false narrative. I hoped I was getting through to her. I’m glad to hear that the blinders are starting to come off.”
“Pastor Bill lied to me,” I said. “He let me believe that I had the flu, and he told me that the friends I was traveling with all died. That the man I love had died. I think that the blatant lies were too much for Nicole. I suspect that his plans for Hannah contributed to her disillusionment, too.”
“Who’s Hannah?”
“She’s a seventeen-year-old girl that Pastor Bill plans to take as his third wife, the third Eve in his new Garden of Eden.”
“What?” Pastor Derek sputtered, clearly horrified.
“Yup. You hadn’t heard that multiple wives is part of his back to Eden scheme? Hannah had no idea that Pastor Bill had designs on her. She totally freaked out when I told her. It’s the reason they locked me up. I tried to help her escape. She was supposed to find my friends so they could get me out, too, but Pastor Bill’s men caught her before she could get away.”
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